


Pacta Sunt Servanda

by nctatnightnight



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Bad Sex Education, Dirty Talk, Exile, F/M, High Fantasy, Light Bondage, Multi, Porn With Plot, Prostitution, Reverse Harem, Sex Work, Smut, Threesome, Threesome - F/M/M, light spit kink
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-24
Updated: 2020-12-24
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:40:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,821
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28282599
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nctatnightnight/pseuds/nctatnightnight
Summary: The Reader and her partner in crime, Jisung, are whisked away in the night on suspicion of treason, only to wind up in service to disgraced-in-exile Prince Chan along with his court.
Relationships: Han Jisung | Han/Kim Seungmin/Reader, Han Jisung | Han/Reader, Kim Seungmin/Reader
Kudos: 16





	Pacta Sunt Servanda

Something was on fire. 

You bolted upright in bed, first because you felt a hand on your knee in the middle of the night, but mostly because the sharp smell of smoke hit your senses. Still, sleep hung on your shoulders like the blanket you just threw off in surprise. The hand on your leg belonged to Jisung, who was worriedly glancing out the window. 

“Come on, love,” Jisung urged you distractedly, “I’m sorry to wake you but we have to  _ go.” _

_ “Jisung?”  _ You murmured groggily, still rousing and desperately willing your mind to fall back into place. Jisung’s eyes were blown wide, the normally deep brown illuminated amber by the uncharacteristic brightness outside your window. You leaned up to finally see. The Whistler family’s trailer full of hay to spread in the morning was on fire. It didn’t seem to be spreading beyond that, but the entire wooden trailer was ablaze. Jisung gulped down a breath. “Jisung,” you grimly repeated with a dry throat, “what did you do?”

“We have to go,” Jisung urgently repeated as well. “Something happened in the Citadel tonight. We need to get everyone out.”

You were awake now. You bolted out of bed, the floor freezing through your socks before you pulled on your boots and your shawl that you had shed onto the chair beside your bed earlier that night. If something happened in the Citadel, then it was the King’s men outside, and that more than likely meant Jisung had been found out. If Jisung had been found out, then you were both going to be in for a heap of trouble. Indeed, both of you. Jisung, for being the one caught. You, for being the one who had the idea in the first place and being involved, even if you weren’t tonight. Jisung rushed out the door to the back garden, presumably to go wake the old Moore couple living behind the small home you boarded in with Lorelai.

_ Lorelai. _

You tore through the house, grabbing a sack to pitch all of Lorelai’s things into, every breakable thing the crotchety old woman treasured and told you that you were likely to destroy one of these days. Her wedding shroud, her one pair of formal shoes, the leatherbound journal in which she scrawled all her recipes — it went in the sack before you burst into her room. Lorelai grumbled and rolled in bed to peer at you from under her heavy blanket. “What in the world are you up to, child?”

“Lorelai,” you gasped, “it’s happening. It’s time to leave.”

“I told you, child,” the old woman grumpily shook her head, “when it happens, leave me.”

“Not now, you wretched old bag!”

Lorelai sat up now at your distress. She knew you meant it. Wordlessly, she reached for her cane standing against the wall beside the bed with one hand, the other beckoning you over to help her up. Normally, you would be helping her to the Whistler family and their trailer, but now…

The old woman badgered you to make sure you had grabbed every little thing she could imagine and you reassured her, over and over, that you had. Her little hand, soft but firm and changed like a river stone over time, was frigid in your grip as you helped her out of the house. You stopped as you heard hoofbeats and stood rigid, waiting to hear where the noise was coming from. A sigh fell from your chest when Jisung came bounding around the corner, with the Moore couple bundled up into their buggy and their one good horse, Bliss, pulling them along. Jisung handed the reins to Mister Moore and hopped off to help you load Lorelai into the buggy. The old woman reached down to you. That icy hand felt like fragile crystal as she cupped your face. “Don’t do anything reckless, girl,” she scolded you, “you’re the only one who’s managed to launder my linens correctly.” The hard lines in her face softened into stark concern.

“Please, Lorelai,” you urged her, “I’ll see you soon enough. Go with the Moore’s to the Outpost.” Mister Moore snapped the reins and they clambered off down the road. When you turned around, Jisung was no longer standing beside you. Instead, he was in the square, haloed by the fire of the Whistler family’s trailer against the King’s men. You ran up before he did anything brash.

A younger man than you expected stood holding the reins of a wiry thoroughbred, all bound muscle and breathing a heavy cloud into the night air. Behind him were more men still seated atop their steeds.  _ “I’ll ask one more time,” _ the man offered, still shrouded in shadow from under his horse’s withers; only a gossamer shock of silvery blonde hair could be made out in the night illuminated by the burning cart. His voice was deep but not menacing, his tone more akin to reasoning. _ “As I’ve asked you before: are you an enemy of the Crown?” _

Your breath hitched in your throat as Jisung finally noticed you beside him and shot you a look. And, much to your horror, he decided to be brave. “We can’t afford to be,” Jisung defiantly announced, not just to the man but the men assembled behind him. Surprisingly, your friend sounded bigger like this, more confident than he bothered to be in day to day life. The man nodded and looked back to one of his compatriots, hidden and standing by the flank of his steed. A hand was pointed at you in their discussion and for a brief moment, you considered running. But you couldn’t leave Jisung behind. The two men quietly exchanged words before regarding Jisung again.

“Your answer affirms our suspicions of treason. You may not be an enemy of the King, but you’re clearly not loyal to him.”

“That’s no reason to take our homes from us!” You finally piped up and stepped forward.

“Agreements must be kept,” the man sighed. “We told your partner when we chased him here that if we found evidence to condemn him, then we would seize the village. We’d give him ample time to clear your neighbors if they are, indeed, just old refugees — which they apparently are — but we would seize the village. And your man here had  _ this  _ on him.” A bag was tossed into your hands, and you didn’t need to open it to know what it was. The weight and sound alone gave it away: a bag full of royal gold.

“So what now?” You asked, trying to sound as big as Jisung as you tossed the bag back.

“Now, you’ll have to come with us and face trial. If you’re so invested, surely you also have damning evidence in your possession as well.”

Before you got a chance to retort, a bag was thrown over Jisung’s head as well as your own. Apparently, you’d been surrounded in all the commotion. You were shackled and loaded into a cart, thankfully with Jisung’s breathing nearby as you considered what in the world just happened. An assumption was no reason to take you as well. As much as you wanted to stand with Jisung, the motives provided to take you as well were tenuous at best. You considered just what exactly would face you at trial, but the horse ride was taking long enough that eventually the hoofbeats only lulled you back to the slumber you’d been pulled out of in the first place.

༻✦༺ ༻♔༺ ༻✦༺

You awoke to the cool of a metal bar pressed to your cheek, and as you sat up you found yourself in a small cell. The hard floor where you’d apparently fallen asleep had made your hip go numb in the night, and you quietly mulled over the still air of the room as you took in your surroundings. Jisung was in the cell next to you, and was on the floor beside you on the other side of the cell bars, actually. He was still fast asleep curled up next to you. Outside, a bustling street could be heard rousing in the morning light. A window near the ceiling of the room let in enough light let know that you were on a lower floor somewhere as you could make out passing carriages and wagon wheels, boots passing through morning mud as people shared greetings and small talk. Your heart was beating so loudly for some reason, and you soon understood why: you hated coming to the Citadel.

It’d been a long time since you’d even remotely enjoyed being within the walls of the city. It’d surely been before the war began — before your family was gone, before Jisung’s family was gone, everything lost to bloodshed. It’d been before you found each other and became fast friends, before you found dozy little Brookefield and took up the mantle of caring for the aging residents who remained through wartime, who were either content to stay or unable to leave; long before you had the mad idea to reclaim the exorbitant taxes the King was decreeing and long before Jisung took that idea and ran with it, and you in your own way. And now Brookefield was gone. You’d heard that much as you were whisked away in the night, the hushed sweep of torchlight running along the thatched and mortared roofs of the homes you’d grown beholden to.  _ Agreements must be kept, _ the man had said, and in a way, you didn’t hate him for that. But your heart was still broken.

The one guard in the room noticed you’d awoken and you stiffened up, sitting upright and patting a hand through the bars onto Jisung’s shoulder to wake him. Jisung roused with a start, snapping upright and blinking the sleep out of his eyes as he tried to get his bearings. The guard rose from his chair and exited a doorway up a flight of stairs. When you listened closely, you could hear him walk overhead. A new series of footfalls descended the stairs. In the doorway stood another man, different from the blonde you’d spoken with the previous night, but still familiar. Faint recognition told you that he may have been the one speaking to the horseman before you were captured. This man stood tall, quietly dignified as he turned behind him to gesture for the guard’s keys. The stranger came forward now, shaking his dark hair from his brow as he leaned down to unlock your cell and walked in.

“Glad to know you’re awake,” the man greeted, his tone ominously neutral, “I take it you’re ready for your trial.”

“How could we possibly be prepared to face trial?” Jisung retorted. The man shrugged.

“You’ll either face trial or be held here until you are.”

“That’s not much of a choice,” Jisung shook his head.

“Or you could just be executed, if that’s less trouble.”

The remark could’ve been a joke, but you both were too horrified by the man’s bluntness to take that chance. Instead, you took your chance to grab the man’s offered hand and yank him down while you pulled yourself up and made to bolt for the doorway, anything to run as the man grunted and crashed to the ground. He was quick, though, and snatched your ankle as he got back to his feet. The guard had sprung to action in the meantime and tossed him a pair of shackles. You were wrestled against the cell wall with a feeble grunt before the shackles clacked shut around your wrists. It seemed you’d been worn down from the previous night’s events, more than you anticipated. Jisung sighed, having apparently been rooting for you before the guard spared any chances of the same happening and going straight to shackle him as well and bring him along.

Honestly, the man looked kind enough as he hauled you up the stairs, but you knew you weren’t getting off to the best start with him. That wasn’t even the worst of your worries, of course. A trial would mean dealing with a Citadel judge, and from personal experience, some were much more corrupt or maligned than others. You pulled your arm back against the vice grip he had on you to slow him. “Who’s presiding?” You urged. 

“Judge Seo is presiding,” he sighed as he pulled you along.

That was  _ not _ a name you recognized. Was that a good sign? Your rapid barrage of harried thoughts only grew more chaotic when you were brought up the stairs. This was  _ not  _ a guard station in the Citadel. This looked more like a public house, and maybe still was, judging by the bar still in place with a healthy supply of barrels and bottles. Tables and chairs populated the main room, empty except for one long table in front of the hearth. The men seated around one end of the table by the window were having a quiet discussion, and hopefully not about you and your friend, though you knew better than that. A pale, waifish man wearing a priest’s pendant and day shawl, admittedly pretty with pale yellow tresses cascading to his shoulders, sat murmuring intently to who was apparently the deep-voiced horseman from the previous night. Upon catching sight of you and Jisung, the two quickly quieted. A third man sat beside them and was content to listen, his soft brown waves of hair bordering on crimson. But as your eyes fell on the man behind them, your breath caught in your throat. He sat stoically reclined in his chair closer to the fire, his raven hair, cropped and wild, almost shining violet in the early morning sun streaming in through the streaked window, but it was the scar — running down from his brow to his cheek, over his forsaken eye and contrasting with his pale complexion — that told you who this was, and where you were. This was the exiled Prince Chan.

This was the exiled prince  _ and  _ his missing brother, in fact, as you now recognized the younger man sitting at attention at the table, scribbling minutes or notes or whichever doom you were fated for. This was a surprise, and a relieving one at that, to be honest with yourself; as much as you despised what the King was doing to his people for the sake of his war, your heart couldn’t help but ache when the announcement came that despite his already harrowing personal losses, he now lost his youngest son as well. But he wasn’t dead, as many had whispered. No, he was apparently here, and he looked just fine. Like his brother, his own pitch black mop of hair reflected a murky blue in the fresh daylight. A sizable hawk sat perched on a stand behind him at the window, almost pensively looking outside to the street.

A rather serious-looking man rose at the center at the table and strode around front, clearing his throat as he went. Most likely, this was Judge Seo. He was handsome, though his flat eyebrows only bolstered his grim demeanor. You almost felt sick. Jisung was pushed into a chair at the front of the room, and you beside him. His knee was bouncing. It seemed he’d figured out your situation as well. 

“This isn’t the Citadel,” he flustered, “so what jurisdiction do you have? This is hardly a real court proceeding.”

“We can just have you executed,” the Judge coolly shrugged, “but we like to do things fairly here.” Thankfully, Jisung shut up. “Let’s do this,” Judge Seo tepidly sighed. He folded his arms across his chest, revealing himself to be surprisingly muscular for a lawman. “Gentleman, what are the charges? General?”

The rider from the previous night stood. “Treason, and suspicion of treason.” First he pointed to Jisung. At  _ suspicion, _ his finger thrust towards you. 

“On what grounds?” The Judge leaned back against the table, almost like he was casually ruminating a proposed legal scenario in a lecture instead. The young general leaned down to the floor beside him and produced the same bag of gold from the previous night onto the table. Next to it, he produced three more. You winced. 

“In regards to the first prisoner’s treason: stolen gold from the Citadel found on the thief,” he explained. He pointed at the other three bags next, and your heart crawled up your throat. Surely, they’d have no way of finding out how you got yours. “On the grounds of the second prisoner’s suspected treason: more stolen gold was found in her home. The bags are still marked with the King’s seal.”

“Alright,” the Judge nodded in consideration, “and do you two have anything to say for yourselves in regards to being traitors to the King?”

You were both stunned. A chance to defend yourselves? Jisung was scrambling for words before you spoke up. “Just because we don’t agree with the King does  _ not _ make us traitors,” you argued. “We’re defending ourselves from our King and his war.”

“Then what was your partner doing in the Citadel?” The Judge asked. 

Jisung finally found his voice again. “We don’t agree with the King,” he repeated, “and especially not his raised taxes to fund a war we want no part in. Besides, what was your general and his men doing there themselves? I’m sure the King would be dismayed to know his son’s men are lurking.”

Judge Seo pondered this as he ignored Jisung’s questioning. “I agree as the panel has previously explained,” he decided. “It’s treason on both accounts, though we cannot prove that our second prisoner actively stole any of the gold herself.” You were caught off guard. When hearing stories of Citadel trials, it wasn’t unheard of to get the book thrown at you for less serious crimes. However things were being run here, it was markedly different. “As such, different sentences are appropriate. You—” the judge pointed at Jisung, “said something interesting. Are you working alone when you sneak into the Citadel?”

“Sure,” Jisung nodded, “and it’s hard enough by myself. I would quite love to know how your general and his men got in there, and  _ what they were doing, _ like I asked.”

“The General snuck in, probably like you did,” Judge Seo said simply. The men assembled at the table perked up at his brazen admission. Even the dejected Prince Chan sat up a little in his chair, careful eyes watching. “In fact,” the Judge nodded, “I’m sure the General could use a man like you.”

“Oh god, no!” Jisung roared out a laugh. “I’m not joining you! If you’re  _ with  _ the King then you’re  _ against  _ us.”

“Suit yourself,” Judge Seo merely nodded. He beckoned forward a guard. “You are within your right to refuse, but you may want time to think about it back in your cell. Now, for your partner—”

“I swear,” Jisung barked as the guard picked him back up to his feet, “if you hurt her or—”

“We’re doing no such thing,” the Judge assured him. The guard began leading Jisung out as Judge Seo looked back at his panel assembled at the table. You looked back over your shoulder, petrified to possibly lose Jisung and to be left alone now. “Chancellor Kim,” he began, regarding the man who’d escorted you from your cell, “you’re sure about this?”

The Chancellor eyed you pointedly. “I am.”

“Alright then. Miss, as your crimes cannot be proven to be as severe, your sentence is a tad unorthodox. You’ll be aiding in restoring the Prince.”

“Excuse me?” You asked, mouth agape. This was apparently news to the Prince as well, who fully sat up in his chair now and glared at the other panel members in sheer bewilderment.

“In the meantime,” the Judge continued, “Sir Lee is responsible for your well-being and will see to it that you’re taken care of to join us in service of his Highness.” At this, he turned and waved the brown-haired gentleman forward. “Sire, please escort the Lady to her quarters.”

“Of course,” the man nodded as he brought forward a guard. He motioned to be given something, to which he was only met with a confused expression. “The keys, please. Our new friend shouldn’t be chained.”

“Well,” Judge Seo clapped his hands together with a small, satisfied grin. “That’s settled, then. Welcome to Ridgehaven, Miss. Court is adjourned.”

“Now,” the man standing over you began as he lifted your hands to unshackle them. He returned the restraints and keys to the guard. “With formalities out of the way, you may call me Minho.  _ Sir  _ is still fine, if you need, but my name is Minho.”

“And you see me as non-threatening enough to not need restraining?” You smirked as you rose from your chair. Finally, you had a moment to wrap your shawl tighter around you against the cold of the room. 

“What are you going to do?” Minho smirked. “Run? There’s guards everywhere. I’m sure you’re capable of protecting yourself, but we’re all more than capable of stopping you, and by any means necessary.” He paused at your crestfallen face. “I meant it, though. Your sentence was to join us. You’re not a prisoner; you’re an equal, and I intend to treat you like one. Not to mention you handled your trial splendidly. I’m not about to belittle you.”

“I did?”

“Indeed,” Minho smiled, and that warmth begrudgingly seeped into you for a moment. “Don’t mind the Judge. Changbin is offbeat, but he’s fair. Chancellor Seungmin, you met before the trial, and he’s just… he’s like that, I’ll say that much.”

“And the Prince?”

Minho sighed at that one, but as if on cue, the Prince arose from his chair by the fireplace, coming right over in your direction. You found yourself staring. His swagger, the almost perpetual scowl etched on his lip: he was doing no favors for his reputation, wrapped up and foreboding in his luxurious bear fur. Minho even stepped aside as it seemed the Prince was approaching you— until he stalked past with only as much as a dubiously cocked eyebrow aimed at yourself. The two of you watched as Prince Chan glowered by, leaned over the bar, came up with a bottle of mead, and skulked off into a back room of the public house without saying a word. “As for the Prince,” Minho heaved out a breath, “you’ll have your work cut out for you.”

You blinked into the unfiltered sunlight as you took Minho’s offered arm and joined him as we exited the public house. The view you were met with was gorgeous. A bustling town, Ridgehaven was apparently tucked away in the valley under a small range of mountains. The road you walked down arm in arm with Minho led through the square and a river could be seen beyond. If the war had touched the town beyond the arrival of the Prince and his men, it didn’t show. Looking behind you gave a fair idea as to why. A formidable gate stood between the feet of two mountains the road eventually wound between.

To your amusement, Minho brought you to a surprisingly grand inn. There was a cozy small bar inside, as well as a kitchen and a large table in front of a roaring fireplace. A few young women tittered behind a counter as you followed Minho, who waved a couple of them over. “Gemma, Miko,” he gently implored, “please get a bath prepared for the empty at the end of Two.” He took a moment and looked back over his shoulder to you. “I don’t suppose you were given any opportunity to bring any clothes?”

“Sorry to say I didn’t bring my petticoats,” you smirked cheekily. Minho cracked a grin and nodded in understanding before he called over the third girl. He quickly dug in his waistcoat before producing a handsome purse. Minho reached inside and dropped a few coins in the girl’s upturned palm.

“Rory, please head down to the seamstress and see if you can find anything suitable for the Lady to wear. Doesn’t have to be fancy; just better than—” Minho flashed that same teasing smile back over his shoulder at you standing in your rumpled nightgown and shawl “—this. Anything better than this. Shouldn’t be hard; don’t get carried away.” You watched curiously as the girl chipperly headed out the door you came in when Minho brought you up a flight of stairs to a dim hallway, only lit by a window on each end. 

“My room is right here if you ever need me,” Minho explained as he pointed to the first door by the landing. He pointed to the next. “Felix is in here, and you’re down here.” You followed Minho down the hall to the last door on the right and peered inside. With reluctant astonishment, you noticed this was nicer than your room back at Lorelai’s home. You tried to remain aloof. You helped yourself to sit on the edge of the bed, Minho casually joining you and sitting himself at the small writing desk in the room as the girls from downstairs brought in a washtub. 

“Do the others stay here as well?” You finally asked as the girls hustled about bringing in hot water for your bath. 

“Not quite,” Minho explained. “Changbin and Seungmin stay in a couple rooms back at the pub. Hyunjin, the priest I don’t think we’ve introduced you to yet, he’s staying at the temple serving with the high priest who’s already here. Adorable old man, you should see the two of them together, it’s a riot.”

“And the Princes?”

Minho pointed at the ceiling. “Third floor, all to themselves.”

“Made yourself at home, I suppose?”

You were met with a meager sigh. Minho knew how this looked, a disgraced royal and his band of merry men taking over a whole town. “We were in dire straits when we found the road that led us to Ridgehaven’s gates. We were fighting back a horde of bandits capitalizing on the war, and when we were through, the gates opened for us. These people don’t know Citadel life. They don’t know what his Highness has suffered through, because we apparently found a little pocket of the kingdom that’s easy to overlook.”

“That’s very convenient,” you snidely nodded. No matter how kind Minho had been to you, you still needed to keep your wits about you. 

“Say what you want,” Minho countered, “but when we explained who we are, the Squire offered his entire home to his Highness. The Prince refused. Ridgehaven likes that we offered our skills and in return they offered us generosity. Ask any of them; they’re all deeply humbled they haven’t lost anything or anyone to the war simply because they were lucky enough to never receive orders to serve.”

“I wish more of us could feel that lucky,” you bristled. In an instant, you were jealous of the entire township. 

“You’re not the only one who lost anything,” Minho admonished. “You know his Highness lost his sister and mother. My parents are gone, too, and I left behind our own inn and pub to follow the Prince. So when the innkeeper offered to let us stay and allowed me to help around here, you could say I certainly took the opportunity to  _ make myself at home.” _

The jarring sensation of being sated washed over you. Minho was kind, he was firm, and you could sense a thorough ruthlessness in him that you found yourself endeared to, even as he now stared you down. “I’m sorry for being antagonistic,” you offered with a metered pace.

He matched your stilted demeanor. “I accept your apology. I would be bitter, too, after everything that’s happened. And in a way, I am. I’m going to check if Rory returned; you’ll excuse me.”

The girls quickly set about finishing preparing your bath and you waited until they cleared the room before you finally stripped off your clothes. You folded them neatly on the bed before you carefully slipped into the hot bath. It was unbearably relaxing to let the warmth soak into your bones after the previous night, but you couldn’t help but think of Jisung and what he must be dealing with. Still, you took a moment to enjoy the oils and soaps at your disposal until a small knock sounded at the door. 

“You can come in,” you softly called out, and Minho modestly peered his head in, giving you a chance to turn your back to him before he walked in with an armful of parcels. You could hear him dig into boxes and packages behind you. “Minho,” you finally pondered, “what exactly does the Chancellor have in mind for me?”

“I’m not sure, honestly,” Minho sighed. “I have some ideas but I’m not sure. I wouldn’t be worried, though. Seungmin is normally harmless. The Prince trusts him so I trust him.”

“And you trust the Prince?”

Minho thought about this and came up more sincere than you intended. “I trust the Prince with my life.” 

“You’re very loyal to him,” you thoughtfully noted. 

“He’s very loyal to me. He’s very loyal to all of us, really.”

Minho carefully set out your clothes and respectfully left the room before another knock sounded at the door. You scrambled for a towel to wrap up in before you answered, only to find yourself standing face to face with Seungmin in your doorway. “Chancellor,” you stiffly greeted. 

“Miss,” he nodded back. “May I come in?”

“Now we’re asking?” You staunchly balked even while you stepped aside. 

The Chancellor let a small, playful smile crack through. “Well, I’m not sure how you did things back in…”

“Brookefield?” You deadpanned. 

“Brookefield,” he nodded in confirmation. “But here, we ask before entering a lady’s room.”

“What about this morning?” You questioned warily. 

“Then you were a prisoner,” Seungmin shrugged. “Now you’re one of us.”

“And as one of you,” you sighed as you slipped behind the privacy screen Minho’s girls had stood up in your room, “I suppose you’ll be telling me exactly how I’m helping restore his Highness.”

“I’m sure you already have ideas,” Seungmin casually remarked, “but it’s simple, really. You’ll be producing an heir for the Prince to return to his father.”

_ “Excuse me?” _

Seungmin froze at how you were taken aback. He seemed to consider this before he tread carefully. “Last night, I thought I recognized you, even in the dark. I’d seen you in the Citadel, at a few balls and parties with the King’s men.”

Thankfully for the screen, Seungmin couldn’t see you wrestle with your sheer panic while you tried to coolly get dressed and maintain composure. “Even if you had,” you implored, “what about it?”

“Men like that wouldn’t be courting such a young woman without looking for an heir of their own, surely.”

“Surely,” you dumbly nodded. Could Seungmin really be this naive? The Chancellor didn’t make the connection between those outings and your bags of gold? Really? The thought baffled you, but you were grateful for it. 

“But I’m supposing it never worked out,” he thought aloud. You pounced on the opportunity. 

“Sadly, it never did,” you facetiously lamented. “I must be barren.”

“Nonsense!” Seungmin gave a shocked laugh. “Don’t be so hard on yourself, Miss. You’re so young, you can’t possibly be barren. Just wasn’t what the gods had in mind, I suppose.”

“Or,” you scrambled, all the while attempting to match his innocently blunt tone, “it must have something to do with how they all took ill afterwards.”

“Took ill?” Seungmin impatiently wondered. “Interesting. I’d hate to put the Prince in danger.”

“So would I,” you heartily nodded as you stepped out from behind the privacy screen. Seungmin nodded his approval. 

“Much better,” he remarked. Honestly, you agreed. You’d never worn a casual dress as nice as this, made with rich textiles and delicate trim. Even the shoes Minho’s girl had picked out were gorgeous, a handsome pair of slippers for everyday use that were better than any of the shoes you’d ever bought yourself. “Yes,” Seungmin nodded again as he looked you over, “much better, indeed. However, your supposed infliction is still troubling.”

“It is,” you agreed gravely. 

“I’ll need to see for myself,” Seungmin decided. 

_ “Excuse me?” _ You demanded again before quickly regaining your temper. “Sir,” you nervously asked, “you don’t mean you’d sacrifice yourself to—”

“Me? Oh, gods, no!” Seungmin chuckled heartily as he thought about it, a hand on his chin as he paced your room. “However, we  _ do _ happen to have a prisoner with nothing to do at the moment, and he  _ is _ someone you presumably trust. If you don’t mind, of course.”

Your mind raced. “Do I mind?” You stalled, until you finally reached a solution. Seungmin looked at you expectantly. “Of course I don’t mind. It’s for the Prince, after all.” The Chancellor flashed a brilliant smile. 

“I knew you’d be perfect. If you’ll wait here, I’ll return at once.” 

Answering was fruitless; Seungmin was already out the door. You let out a heavy sigh to release the knot in your chest.

༻✦༺ ༻♔༺ ༻✦༺

You  _ didn’t _ mind, truly, you didn’t. It wasn’t like you and Jisung hadn’t kissed before, or even gotten a bit carried away once or twice when you had. Sure, you hadn’t slept together, but this wasn’t the problem. The problem was how to get out of this. You thought hard on this quandary as you watched the town bustle about outside. Felix, the General, appeared to be helping Priest Hyunjin pick out some fresh flowers for the vases in front of the temple, judging by their coordinating shocks of blonde hair. Actually, from here, the Priest’s hair almost appeared silver in the sunlight. Down the road, you could make out the younger Prince tending to his hawk on the roof of the public house beside who you assumed to be the Judge, Changbin. You were startled as they seemed to catch sight of you through a spyglass in the Prince’s hand, and they gave you a small wave to truly catch you off guard. If Minho was downstairs as you assumed, as you heard him bantering with the girls going about their chores, then it seemed the Prince was the only one you couldn’t place at the moment. You wondered what he was doing, this man you only knew by reputation and were suddenly expected to bear a child for. Maybe he was sitting in the back room of the public house, still nursing that bottle of mead and doing heaven-knows-what while he brooded. Even then, the Prince alluded you. He couldn’t really be so terrifying, driven to bloodlust by his exile… could he?

A knock at the door ripped you out of your train of thought and you got back to thinking quickly. You rushed over and barely cracked the door open.

“May we come in?” Seungmin asked nonchalantly.

“Jisung, yes,” you nodded, “but you, Chancellor, please wait a moment,” you hurriedly pleaded as you yanked Jisung in the room.

“Wait, what?!”

“Just a moment, Chancellor!” You attempted to reassure him as you shut the door.

_ “Oh, come on,” _ you heard Seungmin groan as you pulled Jisung along.

So Seungmin waited, tapping the sole of his boot against the floor while he strained to listen to you murmuring frantically to Jisung inside your room. He paced in a tight circle. He waited. He wondered what happened between Jisung exclaiming,  _ “I’m sorry, what?!” _ And him sighing,  _ “Alright.”  _ Maybe Hyunjin was right, Seungmin pondered as he waited, that women were fickle but compelling creatures at will. The young priest never talked to any women outside of the temple, sure, but he seemed to have a point in this case. Regardless, Seungmin perked up when you finally opened the door again. 

“Chancellor,” you grinned demurely at him, “thank you for waiting. I just had to ensure Jisung is alright with this and understands the risks involved.” 

And Seungmin, to your horror, just smiled in return and walked into your room. “No problem at all. Should we get started then?”

“Started?” Jisung paled at the Chancellor’s casual remark. “You’re not going to watch—”

Seungmin let out another hearty laugh. “Of course I am! I have to be sure, don’t I? Just pretend it’s a noble consummation.”

You and Jisung shared a frantic look. Perhaps naively, you’d really hoped this wouldn’t be the case. But if you wanted to get Jisung out of here with a chance to break you out as well, you’d take it. You locked eyes with Jisung again. He knew you knew what you were doing, but that trepidation still made sense to you. If he wanted to back out, you wouldn’t blame him. 

“Fine then,” Jisung decided as he promptly reached for his belt. 

Fine then, indeed. 

You stepped out of your shoes and sat at the edge of your bed while Jisung’s fingers nervously fiddled with his trousers. A small gulp forcing down his throat suggested that maybe his mouth had gone dry. He paused as you set your hands on his. When you looked up at your friend, he seemed to calm back down a little. This was fine, this was doable, and he could try to forget that Seungmin was duly observing. If he pushed onwards, he could do this. 

Jisung leaned down as he settled onto the bed beside you before he tipped his head closer and kissed you. It was a bit relieving, honestly, a kiss from a good friend you cared about, almost reassuring you that this wasn’t wildly unorthodox. His lips were soft and almost thoughtful against yours, and the sensation that Jisung was quickly falling into a headscape where he could enjoy this gave you a light buzz. 

Until a creaking on the floorboards let you know Seungmin had curiously leaned over to see better. “Any reason for the pleasantries?” He mused. 

“A lady cannot be expected to perform without proper preparation, Chancellor,” you admonished. 

Seungmin quickly shut up. “Sounds right,” he nodded, “go ahead.”

“Thank you,” you huffed, despite being as bashful as you were at Seungmin’s clinical demeanor. You busied yourself with capturing Jisung’s lips against your own again, while your hand drifted from where it cupped his face, down his chest and further down still between his legs. Your core stirred at the feel of him instantly responding to your touch. It just so happened that the deciding factor in not getting past this point last time with Jisung was you’d both been drinking and he couldn’t quite “cooperate” anymore. That was decidedly not the case here, as he quickly hardened under your caress. And, of course, Jisung was plenty more virile than your escapades from the Citadel. His rapid response to your teasing fingertips was almost affirming, and you found you could probably just have fun with this despite the pretense.

Jisung watched as you leaned back to lay on the bed and he eagerly followed, apparently swept up in you instead of in the offbeat circumstances — or Seungmin, who now stepped towards a more conducive vantage point by the bed. You brought your friend’s sideways glance back towards you the moment you lifted the hem of your dress and Jisung promptly caught on, his soft and warm hands fleeting on your skin while he hitched the skirt of your dress up around your hips. His slim fingertips dipped between your legs and you gasped, piquing Seungmin’s interest as Jisung felt you out, making sure you were plenty wet for him and could adjust to the stretch of a couple fingers already. You felt the Chancellor’s gaze distractedly focus on Jisung’s glistening fingertips once he retracted them from your aching core, and doubly so as he absentmindedly tasted them when he settled between your legs on the bed. 

You made sure to watch as Jisung sank into you for the first time. His brow furrowed at the sensation of your velvety walls growing accustomed to his length, his dark eyes shut tight when he filled you out, and his lips parted in a growing moan once he began to slowly rock into you. This was better than you’d ever hoped Jisung would be when you’d previously wondered, and the sighs and groans that escaped you only qualified that discovery. 

Your legs hungrily wrapped around Jisung’s hips while he thrust into you when you noticed Seungmin. The Chancellor wasn’t just watching now, but perhaps was letting his eyes roam over you as he watched you writhe and moan under Jisung. He seemed sheepish when he noticed you catching him. 

“Is this good enough?” You asked the young Chancellor with mock innocence. 

“Absolutely,” Seungmin nodded, seemingly not detecting any of the sarcasm in your remark. “But you’ll be going to completion, of course?”

“Of course,” you nearly rolled your eyes. It was amusing to notice Jisung try everything in his power to not get distracted. “Why wouldn’t he finish?”

“Him?” Seungmin puzzled. “I meant you. It’s the surest way to conceive a son, or at least that’s what I’ve heard. We should at least be sure we can properly test everything while we’re at it.”

You nearly laughed out loud, but Seungmin was apparently dead serious. He needed to see you climax. Jisung was suddenly aware of this, too, judging by the concern suddenly etched in his expression. 

“You’re incredible,” Jisung exasperatedly smirked, “I can’t believe we’re finally doing this, but that means I’m already fighting to keep from finishing.”

“Is it really that important?” You asked Seungmin. He sighed, arms folded as he thought about it. 

“No reason not to try. Are you saying he’s incapable of getting you to finish?”

“No!” Jisung gawped, almost enough to stop thrusting against you entirely. “I’m not saying that, I’m just reasonably stating that I got  _ very _ worked up  _ very _ quickly and if I’m not careful I’m likely to—”

“Ugh, come  _ on _ ,” Seungmin rolled his eyes. “I’ll do it, then. You focus.”

_ “Excuse me?” _ You both flustered as Seungmin moved a pillow aside at the head of the bed and sat above you. He looked down, his handsome features upside down from your vantage point. 

“Only if you don’t mind, Miss.”

_ How selfless, _ you outrageously mused, but nevertheless… you were intrigued. You caught Jisung’s eye and his nod signaled his acceptance of the truly unfounded situation. “Well,” you nodded at the Chancellor, “it  _ is _ for his Highness.”

Seungmin seemed pleased with this, and made quick work of adjusting so you were laying back in his lap against his chest. Jisung was still enjoying himself between your legs when you watched Seungmin first reach for your breasts. His caress was gentle, but unyielding, broadcasting his determination as he softly massaged you. The veins mapping the backs of Seugmin’s strong hands were almost captivating as he touched you. It didn’t take long for him to grow bolder either, his fingertips slipping below your neckline to run over your nipples while Jisung thrust into you. As much as you’d made a living with the Citadel’s men, you never had two at once, and the head rush was driving you mad almost instantly. Seungmin seemed to catch your heightened arousal and he changed course, his free hand sweeping down your torso and between your legs, underneath your skirt still up around your hips until he was met with your heat.

You were almost certain you felt a hushed gasp from him behind you when you shivered at the sensation. His fingers were gentle when he started with you, caressing into your soaked folds and beginning with rubbing small circles into you. 

Jisung couldn’t take his eyes off you as he fucked you, so enamored as he was at watching you come undone even faster wrapped around him and with Seungmin’s fingers teasing you like mad. When you glanced up at Seungmin, he was just as flushed as Jisung was, a discovery so nearly endearing that your climax crested the horizon and was already fast approaching. How long had it been building like this? Maybe you were so lost in everything going on that it had been accelerating in the background. This really wasn’t the worst way to get out of a tight spot. 

“Close?” Seungmin implored, his thumb and forefinger still dutifully torturing your sore nipple as you squealed and sighed your confirmation. A guttural moan from deep in Jisung’s chest thoroughly implied he felt similarly. The Chancellor eagerly nodded in return when he looked back up at Jisung. “Kiss her again,” he directed. 

“Gladly,” Jisung obeyed without question before he leaned down to take your lips against his once more, and you quickly relinquished your tongue when he prompted you. Seungmin’s fingers between your legs were tantrically forming a rhythm, occasionally just spreading you open to Jisung’s length and the cool air of the room, before getting right back to caressing you. All of it — finally sleeping with Jisung, the Chancellor’s hands all over you — it was all building to the orgasm crawling up your spine right until it toppled over the edge and spread through you. You sighed in visceral bliss and clawed at the sheets, at Jisung, at Seungmin’s arms around you, finding no reprieve as Jisung’s climax hit him right after and he fell into you, gasping and dragging his lips against your cheek and throat while he spilled into you.

Seungmin, of course, was the first to get up. He patted your shoulder, almost as if to praise you for a job well done, before he prodded Jisung off of you to let him clamber off the bed. The Chancellor smoothed out his clothes and caught his breath while Jisung did the same. Your friend was handsomely flushed as he slowly got back up to sit on his heels, where he stuffed himself back in his trousers before he helped pull your dress back into place. His warm hand caressing your face got a tired grin out of you. 

“You were magnificent, love,” he beamed at you, before he leaned forward to kiss your brow. 

“Truly,” Seungmin nodded graciously before he gestured at the door. “And thank you for your help, Jisung. Now we wait. Guards!”

“Oh, come on!” Jisung groaned as two guards entered. You saw your friend clearly consider hopping out the window before the two men grabbed him. The guards dragged Jisung out with miserable swiftness, and then it was just you and the Chancellor. 

You crossed your arms and settled your weight on one tired hip. “And what about me?” 

“Now we wait,” he repeated. “If you’re cursed like you say you are, it shouldn’t take long for your friend to fall ill.”

“And when he does?” You challenged. 

“Then we’ll get him assistance and let you both leave if you’d like. I’d more than consider this whole arrangement reasonable repayment of your charges, and I’m sure the good Judge Seo would agree.”

The civility threw you for a moment. It was none of your concern, but now you were curious. “And,” you inquired, genuinely now, “what if he doesn’t?”

Seungmin brightened. “Then I’d be proud to see you become the Princess. I’ll check in on you later, but please don’t stray far.”

༻✦༺ ༻♔༺ ༻✦༺

You were a bit lost for words. It had been your understanding that the Chancellor meant for you to produce an heir for the Prince, but to actually become his wife? Seungmin waved goodbye and you were still so caught up with this sudden wife talk that he left before you could say anything. 

So now the plan was to wait. You sank back into the bed, the wooden frame creaking as if it, too, were tired from all the rocking. The Chancellor had asked you to not stray far, but that wasn’t even a concern. You needed to stay put for when Jisung came. In the meantime, however, one of Minho’s girls came to check on you: Rory, the young woman who brought you your new clothes. 

“Do you need anything, Miss?” She politely asked. 

The wheels in your head turned a little. You were going to wait until you got out of here, but if you could work on ensuring you wouldn’t be producing any heirs anytime soon, that would be an efficient use of your waiting. “Tell me, dear,” you wondered, “how much were you told to provide for me? I don’t want to inadvertently ask outside of my means.”

“I was told to get you whatever you desired, Miss.”

You cocked a surprised eyebrow. “Sir Lee said that?”

“His Highness did, Miss.”

A cough sputtered out of you where you sat up against the headboard of the bed. “Excuse me?”

“Well, I mean, Miss,” the girl stammered, “we were told they were the Prince’s orders. Can I get you anything?”

“I suppose,” you blinked. “I was just going to suggest a little something to brighten the room. My favorite flowers are starblooms, do they happen to grow around here?”

Rory lit up. “Those are my favorite as well, Miss. The garden Priest Hyunjin has set up at the temple has a patch of them. I’ll return at once.”

The girl was gone in an instant, leaving you to wonder. Under what pretense would the Prince order that you get whatever you wanted? You arose from the bed to stroll over to the window. Rory could be seen making her quick little steps down the road to the temple. She apparently surprised Priest Hyunjin when she approached him from behind at the front steps of the temple, the tall man jolting before whirling on her. The two shared a shocked laugh and exchanged a few words before you watched him beckon her back into the garden gates beside the temple. You were amused to watch him allow a few good strides to come between them before he followed behind. 

Through this, your mind was still awash with curiosity over the Prince’s order. Did he really even say it? You wouldn’t put it past Minho to just  _ say _ that the Prince had, but you weren’t sure why he would. For all intents and purposes, if the Prince ordered that you be catered to, it was surely just to be hospitable. But, to picture that grim wight of a prince you’d seen skulking through the public house earlier being so cordial and accommodating — it was confusing. 

You asked Rory to bring you some tea after she returned with your flowers. She had said that the young Priest even happily blessed them for you, to which you feigned your appreciation at the gesture. This was fine enough to try and bide your time, but you were growing antsy with the young Prince perusing the shops down the street with the Priest in tow. Your tea certainly helped with the bitterness of the stems and leaves from the starblooms, a foul but nifty tip from Lorelei, the only other person you’d shared your secret occupation with. 

Hours had passed and still no Jisung. The sun was beginning to set over the ridge, when finally your door swung open. 

Only it wasn’t your friend. 

_ “Chancellor,” _ you gasped as you got up with a start, “whatever happened to asking before entering a lady’s room?”

“Come with us,” Seungmin dryly commanded. He didn’t wait, he only turned and began heading down the hall. You trotted after him, down past Minho and Felix playing a game of cards with the girls downstairs, out into the street where Priest Hyunjin was opening the doors to the temple for a nighttime service, and back to the public house. Your mind raced with what could be happening as you were marched inside. The good Judge sat against that same long table in front of the hearth with his arms folded, watching you seriously as the Chancellor led you along. The disgraced Prince sat behind him, lip set sternly with another bottle of mead in his hand as he faced the fire. 

You were led downstairs, both escorting guards waiting up top and shutting the door as Seungmin took you back to the cells. 

Both were empty. 

You walked inside one, the one Jisung had been occupying just that morning when you wheeled around on Seungmin. “Where is he?! What did you do with him?!”

“Us?” Seungmin scoffed. “We were about to ask  _ you. _ Some friend, leaving you dry like this.”

“What  _ happened? _ ” You demanded. Seungmin sighed. 

“According to the guards, about an hour ago, he asked for that window to be propped open. Fine enough, it was done. About 20 minutes ago, the guards tell us Jisung wasn’t feeling well.”

_ Good, _ you thought,  _ but where  _ is _ he? _

“When the guards went to check on him, they opened the door, and he subdued them with that stool just enough to hop out the window and make a break for it.”

“Well,” you sighed as you eyes the broken stool in the corner of the cell, “I hope your men are alright.”

“He’s fine, if only a few bumps and bruises. What’s more concerning is our arrangement.”

“Right,” you nodded impatiently, “because—”

“Because you’re lying.”

“Excuse me?”

You and Seungmin stared each other down in the cell. How much, exactly, did he doubt you?

“You and your friend Han are working together,” he accused. “I should’ve known better than to leave you two alone for even a second. I’m lucky you didn’t rob us blind.”

“No,” you indignantly shot back, “instead you want me to breed with the Prince like some bitch in heat.”

Seungmin looked a bit stunned. When did a woman ever talk back to him as much as you? You were almost amused wondering, but the fire in his eyes erased any of his gentlemanly nature. “Well if what I’ve been hearing about you is true, it shouldn’t be so difficult. Unless you  _ are _ cursed,” he sneered. You held your ground and placed a hand on Seungmin’s chest to push him out of the cell. He could keep you in here, for all you cared. 

“How would you know,” you snapped, “you didn’t have the gall to try me yourself. Some loyalty you have for the Prince, that’s for sure.”

“Don’t you  _ dare _ question my loyalty,” Seungmin warned. He pushed back against your hand, stepping back over the threshold into your cell. 

“Don’t make it so easy to,” you taunted. “You destroyed my home and got me to agree to this ludicrous endeavor and you weren’t even man enough to see that through to its logical end.”

Something in Seungmin snapped in that moment, and you made the grave mistake of letting your hand on his chest falter for just one second. The Chancellor gripped your wrist. “You  _ insufferable  _ woman,” he seethed contemptuously, “I’ve been nothing but just and kind to you and you’ve deemed it fit to be nothing but difficult.”

“You locked us up and treated us like criminals,” you huffed. “Say what you want about Jisung, but that money should’ve never been taken from us in the first place, taxed or otherwise — and what’s more, I  _ earned _ mine. You  _ stole _ it.” 

“Doing what?” Seungmin scoffed. “Peddling your wares to the Citadel’s men? Afflicting them with your  _ curse?” _

“At least they were man enough to try it,” you snidely laughed, getting another rise out of Seungmin. “Didn’t Jisung look like he was having  _ fun _ , Chancellor?”

“Don’t mock me, you petulant girl—”

“Or what? I’m already back in a cell,” you goaded. Seungmin’s jaw clenched when your hand in his grip drifted down to his belt to teasingly tug on it. “You don’t have to lie,” you pretended to pout, “I’m sure you didn’t want to sully your noble cock with my cursed womb—”

You were cut off as Seungmin’s hand on your wrist renewed its grip, catching you in his clutches as he backed you up against the cell wall. “Don’t you punish me,” the Chancellor gritted out as his hips pressed yours into the metal bars, “for admiring your tenacity and ability to call upon diplomacy when you’re more than entitled not to.”

“And what else?” You sneered as you bucked him away, only for him to drive himself against you one more. 

“And for thinking you’d be able to make a man out of someone as bull-headed and defiant as the Prince is,” he retorted. You fought past the dizzying adrenaline hit facing off against the Chancellor was giving you, now with his free hand gripping your shoulder. “And for your information, I  _ loathed _ Jisung in that moment.”

“Right,” you nodded facetiously, “because you’ve never slept with a woman you didn’t court for three months first.”

“Definitely not a potentially cursed one,” he spat back. 

“Well, now you’ll never know!” You laughed indignantly, and that finally did it. The Chancellor leaned into you where he had you pressed into the cell bars and drove his mouth against yours in a furious kiss. “What’s the matter,” you teased, partly muffled against his lips, “do you have something to prove?” Seungmin gasped out a groan as you roughly grabbed at his belt. 

“No,” he breathed as he greedily pulled at the skirt of your dress, “but you do. Let’s see how cursed you are.” Your clutching hands were quickly gathered up in Seungmin’s strong grip, holding you in one hand as he pulled off his belt. “Now, I’ll extend my fairness to you again,” he said seriously, pausing for a moment now. “Say the word and I’ll stop.”

“Don’t mock me, you petulant  _ snake,” _ you smirked. Seungmin nodded dutifully and he was back on you in moments, his lips capturing yours again as he swiftly looped your wrists together with the belt in his hands. He turned to press you against the cell door, feverishly kissing you while he knotted the free end of the belt over your head to the bar running across the top of the door. You had to admit you were a bit impressed. Seungmin groaned deep as he kissed you against the cell door, his tongue wrestling against yours and his length already growing plenty hard from what you could feel through your clothes. He grabbed at your dress and lifted the hem enough to pull one of your legs around his waist. 

Your head fell back against the metal bars with a heavy sigh, your throat running dry once you felt Seungmin touch you again. He leaned back now, enough to watch your expression ebb and flow as he roughly rubbed you between your legs and relished your growing wetness. “Tell me,” he ordered. 

“Tell you what?” You sneered breathlessly. 

“Tell me how good it is,” he impatiently demanded. 

“We won’t really know unless you fuck me, Chancellor,” you grinned. 

“You contemptible  _ bitch,” _ Seungmin smirked back as he took the plunge and dipped a finger into your soaked heat, “don’t insult my title like that.”

“Don’t pretend you haven’t wanted this since you captured me,  _ Chancellor,” _ you mewled. As one good step into truly bringing Seungmin down to your level, the moment he had a retort brewing, you spit right in his face. It wasn’t much, even mostly just for show, but the gesture was made. There was no illusion as to how riled up he’d gotten you, and he was clearly right there with you considering how he invigorated he became. Seungmin pressed you back against the cell door with the palm of his hand at the base of your throat as he teased his long fingers in and out of you. 

“You better tell me how much you want it,” Seungmin warned as he swiped your spit off his face with the back of his free hand, “I don’t know how much longer I can play nice.”

“I didn’t think wanting it matters when I’m just supposed to be used for breeding,” you condescended. 

“What a good breeding mount you’d be, too,” Seungmin gibed, the venom in his voice laced with pure lust. The near insults you were hurling at each other made you burn deliciously. He crooked his fingers in you, really feeling you out and rubbing into that little sweet spot before he withdrew from you completely. Seungmin held you against the bars with one hand on your waist as you wriggled while he admired his glistening fingertips. Apparently, he’d been curious after watching Jisung earlier, as he torturously left you empty and waiting while he brought his fingertips to his lips to taste them. You couldn’t place just how experienced the young Chancellor was, but his wild, low groan at the taste of you, the way his eyes rolled back the slightest bit while he held you down and licked your essence off his digits — you could place his hunger, and he was starving. 

You watched Seungmin free his hard length from his trousers and you caught yourself nearly moaning just from the audacity of the moment: tied up for the Chancellor in a jail cell, both of you draped in a fine layer of perspiration in your growing fervor, your spread legs yearning for the handsome cock he just revealed. He knew it, too, with how he took his sweet time stroking it for you, purely showing off as you grew needy and pulled at your restraints. You felt it, feeling gross for how much you wanted it, and you needed to correct the balance. When he finally pressed closer, you shoved your knee up into his hip. 

“Nuh-uh,” you condescendingly shook your head. Seungmin steeled against you. “We need to discuss payment.”

“Payment?!” The Chancellor was almost offended.

“Payment,” you repeated. “Everyone pays. Every woman gets paid.”

“Not every woman gets paid,” Seungmin laughed in disbelief. “If I had a wife she wouldn’t get paid.”

_ “Especially _ your wife would get paid,” you simpered mischievously. “Maybe not with money, but you would pay her.” 

“What do you want?” Seungmin breathed haughtily. “If you want to negotiate you chose the wrong opponent.”

“I have no interest in negotiating,” you maintained as you pushed him further back with your knee. “I’m not that kind of woman. Either I name my price or you name your contribution, and this time I want you to name your contribution.”

“Don’t make me pay for you like some common whore,” Seungmin wrinkled his nose at the prospect. Even still, his cock in his hand canted toward your hips, his fingers diving into your folds greedily as they yearned to search you again. This was perfect; you were liable to get whatever you wanted, even though you were the one tied up. But he had to be the one to offer, or else you weren’t really winning at all. 

“I  _ am _ a common whore,” you grinned devilishly, “and you have no reason to be so proud about it. You better name your offering before I lose interest.”

“Fine,” Seungmin decided as he clutched onto your waist. His fingertips still continued to stimulate you. He was clearly scrambling to figure how much leeway he could afford. “First, tell me if Jisung is coming back for you.”

“Why wouldn’t he?” You defended. 

“I thought you’d say that,” he nodded thoughtfully, “so here are my terms: if you’re not bluffing and Jisung comes back for you, then we’ll let you loose. Leave or stay, his attempted escape will be forgiven, as well as any plans to whisk you away. If he doesn’t, we’re keeping you prisoner until we track Jisung down, and then we’re turning you over to the Citadel as traitors to the Crown as we could’ve done in the first place.”

You smiled warmly. “So the price is…?” 

Seungmin needed to say it, if you wanted to feel any bit accomplished. “The price I’m paying,” he carefully stated, as if he were making a vow, “is the likely gamble that I’ll be letting you go scot-free.”

You caught the Chancellor out of the corner of your eye, his hand formerly on your waist getting distracted stroking his painfully hard member again. His breath hitched in his throat as you moved your knee pinning him back from you, opting instead to hook your leg over his hip and draw him nearer. Seungmin met your gaze as you nodded. “I like how you think, Chancellor,” you praised.

“So what now?” He asked, the poor boy a nobleman to the end.

“So,” you grinned as you angled your hips to begin accepting the tip of his length into your dripping entrance, “you bought me. If you bought me to test my breeding capabilities for yourself, then I’m all yours until you’re spent. That’s what you wanted, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” Seungmin choked out a moan as he slowly sank into you.

“Say it,” you encouraged, relishing in the way he almost shivered in excitement. “Fuck me and say it.” Just to truly torture him, you sighed out an airy moan, letting your head fall back against the metal bars of the cell door as he slowly stretched you open around his length. Seungmin’s fingers dug into your hips.

“I said it before,” he growled, “you’d be the perfect breeding mount. You’re so infuriating it makes me want to tear you to pieces.” You gasped as Seungmin grappled your thighs into his hands, hoisting you up so he could pin you against the cell bars, almost slamming you into the door as he roughly thrust into you now that you were both adjusted to how he felt inside you. He let out the most satisfied groan at the feel of you wrapped around him, his hips snapping against you as he erratically fucked you. From all your provoking each other, both of you seemed drunk off your accumulated arousal, liable to accelerate towards the finish at any moment. You barely even got a chance to take a breath to goad him further, but that didn’t stop Seungmin once he got going. “I can’t wait to fill you up now that I get to try you myself,” he grinned darkly with satisfaction. 

“If you hadn’t been such a coward you could’ve been the only one here to try me, Chancellor,” you retorted. 

“You are the single most aggravating woman in the world,” Seungmin grumbled as he thrust hard into your heat. If he wasn’t careful, he was going to push you right over the edge before you were ready. 

“Only when I don’t get what’s rightfully mine, Chancellor,” you cooed. He finally snapped. 

“Say it again,” he urged. You gripped at your improvised restraints as he jostled you against the cell bars. 

“Say  _ what _ again,” you smiled innocently, “I thought I was insulting your title.”

“Never,” Seungmin snarled as he clawed into your hips, “we made a deal so now you’re mine. You’re my goddamned  _ prize _ . Now say it again.”

“Oh,  _ Chancellor,” _ you cheekily sighed for him, “don’t stop, please, don’t stop.”

Even as you playfully moaned and squealed for him, you were hardly exaggerating. This was good, and hardly the worst deal you’d ever made. It was even good enough to stop worrying about Jisung for the time being. Seungmin groaned hard when you pressed your legs tighter around him and he leaned forward, his teeth and lips exhaustedly dragging over your throat. 

_ “Close?” _ He grunted into your skin. 

_ “So _ close,” you murmured back, already riding high on your ascent. “Kiss me again.”

Seungmin drunkenly nodded, glazed eyes half-lidded when he tipped his chin up to kiss you. His pace didn’t falter, though his quickened breaths along his probing tongue gave more than enough of a hint of his impending orgasm. Finally, Seungmin came to an intense climax just as you reached your own. His hips rocked hard once, twice, into you before he slowed to a stop, his length still spilling into you as your depths continued to throb and squeeze firmly around him. Your shared moans were almost pained in addition to exhausted, indulging in a short convalescence as the two of you caught your breath. 

It was a few minutes of Seungmin languidly, absentmindedly kissing the crook of your neck before he gently set you back on the ground and untied your wrists. You practically collapsed back against the cell door and he caught your elbow, to help steady you back on your feet. His look was cryptically stoic as you shifted your dress back into place and wiped the sweat from your brow. 

“Regrets?” You awkwardly prodded. A band of fading discoloration shone on your wrists where the leather of Seungmin’s belt had pressed into your skin. The Chancellor sighed and shook his head. Perhaps it was the weight of his deal that was finally settling on his shoulders. It seemed more likely as the pounding of horse’s hooves could be heard outside the window. Upstairs, a door could be heard kicking open, a commotion erupting with a worrisome amount of movement.

The young General shambled down the stairs, blonde hair falling into his eyes and cheeks already flushed before reddening more at the sight of you both. Though you’d practically recovered, Seungmin’s clothes were still clearly rumpled, his hair still glistening at the roots with perspiration. “Seungmin,” Felix panted, his deep voice gone hoarse, “we found him. He was ambushed near the Checkpoint.”

“Jisung?” You gasped before stepping forward. Felix looked about ready to reach for you and lead you upstairs until he caught sight of the Chancellor. Seungmin quickly turned back towards you, gently pushing a hand to your chest and making you step further back into the cell. “What’re you doing?!”

“We have an unexpected wrinkle in our deal,” Seungmin firmly explained as he pulled the door shut behind him. “After all, we don’t know if Jisung was coming back for you.”

“Seungmin, you son of a bitch,” you growled, losing any desire to be cordial as you tried to snatch his sleeve through the bars, “that isn’t fair and you know it!”

“It’s not about fair, it was our  _ agreement,” _ the Chancellor remarked, his eyes cast down and away from you, “and agreements must be kept.”

Felix rushed back up the stairs ahead of Seungmin as you tried to grab his sleeve again. “Seungmin, you snake,” you warned, “be better than this.”

“The same can be asked of you,” he shook his head. “Now don’t lose yourself over this. I’m going to make sure everything is alright and let you know what’s happening.” Seungmin pulled away from you and made for the stairs.

_ “Chancellor,” _ you desperately taunted from your cell. Seungmin paused, one boot on the bottom step. “You still think you’ll be proud to call me your Princess?”

“When this is all over,” Seungmin grumbled as he resumed ascending the stairs, “I’ll be proud to call you my goddamned Queen.”

And, just like that, you were left alone again.

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted to skzctnightnight.tumblr.com! 💕


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